


A Righteous Marriage

by IreneADonovan, velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Furry, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Arranged Marriage, Fluff and Smut and Angst and Humor, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 20:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18972082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: Bucky O'Hare is captain of the Righteous Indignation, a trading vessel that plies its trade in the Meta-Human Galaxies. All is good until his Executive Officer, Steve Tabbys, is summoned home to be married. Desperate not to lose his right-hand meta, Bucky agrees to marry Steve himself, at least on paper. The problem -- he's been half in love with Steve for years..





	A Righteous Marriage

The Righteous Indignation was a fast ship, carrying mostly-legal cargo throughout the Meta-Human Galaxies, and her captain was Bucky O'Hare, a Lapinysse, a rabbit meta.

Lapinysse were usually considered a gentle species, shy and retiring, much like the non-human portions of their DNA, seldom venturing into space. Bucky was not a typical Lapinysse, though he was quiet, like most of his kind. He'd spent his youth reading tales of spacer captains and of the Imperial Wars, dreamt of adventure, and at seventeen, had talked his way onto an outbound ship as a cabin boy.

Fifteen years later, he had his own ship.

His crew was a broad cross-section of meta-humanity, almost as many species as crew members. His executive officer, Steve Tabbys, was Felinian, a domestic-cat meta, with all the attitude, snark, and sass that came with feline genes. He was opinionated and insubordinate, yet Bucky wanted no one else at his side in a fight.

Except maybe Natasha. And Thor. And Clint. Bruce. Tony. Sam. Rhodey. Even Loki. Okay, so most of his crew were damned good in a fight, but Steve still topped the list.

They were two days out of Ysydere, delivering a load of spices and fine cloth (and a few less-licit items), and all was going well. Or so he thought. When he stepped into the mess, he saw Steve sitting and staring at his comm pad, sipping pensively at a glass of milk.

“Something wrong, Steve?” He slid into the seat across from him.

Steve started, like the cat he was, but quickly relaxed. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I'm being summoned home. To be married.”

“What?” Bucky knew Steve was somehow a part, in the complex manner of Felinian family trees, of the Felinian royal family, but far enough down the line of succession that his spacefaring ways were largely tolerated. Until now, it seemed.

“They say it is time to do my family duty, to come home and take a mate.”

Bucky was stunned. “I can't lose you.”

“You won't, not permanently, I don't think. Once I'm wed, they'll probably let me return to space.”

“Probably.”

Steve nodded.

“Is there any way around this?”

Now Steve smiled, slit-pupilled blue eyes gleaming. “We're Felinian. There's always a way around.”

Bucky nodded. “Then spread the word -- officers' meeting after dinner. We'll brainstorm a way out of this. I can't afford to lose you.” _I love you_ , he thought but didn't say.

**~***~**

“Do you have a choice in who you wed?” Loki asked. He was a jaguar-meta from the planet Asgard, and the ship's customs officer, charged with negotiating the complex tangles of intergalactic import/export laws, and when necessary, finessing ways around them. If anyone could find a loophole, it was Loki.

“Some,” Steve answered. “I will be presented with a list of suitable mates, and expected to choose from among them.”

“So you can only wed someone on the list?” Natasha, one of the ship's two weapons officers, a fox-meta from Moskva. Her combination of Russian and vulpine ancestry made her fiery as her hair.

“It is preferred,” Steve said cautiously.

“But not written in stone.” Tony, chief engineer, one of only three full-humans on board, for all he claimed to be part-jackass.

“So how does that help us?” Bruce, the ship's doctor, a product of genetic engineering beyond human-animal fusions. Bucky wasn't sure what to call Bruce's green alter-ego; he just knew to get out of the way when he made an appearance.

“I'm not sure it does,” Loki again, “but all information is useful under the right circumstances.”

“Enough, brother,” Thor, the ship's cook, growled. He and Loki were adoptive brothers, Thor's puma ancestry and sleek golden hair a sharp contrast to Loki's dark locks. “You always speak in riddles.”

“And you speak with your claws.”

“Knock it off, both of you.” Bucky spoke with quiet authority, regaining control of the meeting. “Steve, do you think if you said you wanted to marry someone else, your family would let you?”

Steve cocked his head in a most feline fashion, slit-pupilled eyes blinking slowly. “They might. I'm something like 135th in the line of succession, so as long as the niceties are observed, they should be okay with it. But who the hell am I supposed to marry?”

“Me,” Bucky said quietly. He wished. “Or any other member of the crew.”

“Not me,” Loki muttered. No surprise there. Everyone on board knew he and Thor were all but mated.

Steve looked floored. “Marry a crew member?”

“A marriage on paper, at any rate. Enough to satisfy your family and allow you to remain on board,” Bucky said.

Steve offered a lazy feline grin. “That could work.”

Bucky surveyed his officers. “Any volunteers?”

Sam, Clint, and Rhodey kept their expressions carefully neutral. They were all ex-military and would do it if he made it an order. Bucky hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Natasha looked less than enthused.

Bruce shook his head. “Too risky. The green guy's too unpredictable.”

True enough.

Tony looked interested, though Bucky knew he had a thing for Pepper, the ship's secret weapon. She didn't have an official title because she was just that: secret. Secret, because he didn't want to lose her. She had the keenest financial mind Bucky had ever encountered, and she'd made the whole crew filthy rich.

“Not me,” Peter said. “I'm not even legal on most planets.” An unusual arachno-meta, as brilliant as he was young, he was Tony's foster-son and apprentice.

Bucky sighed, made an abrupt decision. “Fine. I'll do it myself.” Never mind he'd been carrying a torch for his XO for years. This would be torture.

And he would enjoy every minute of it. If it didn't kill him first.

**~***~**

They delivered the goods ahead of schedule and received a bonus. Bucky turned all of the proceeds over to Pepper to work her magic, then granted the crew a few days leave before they departed for the Felinian homeworld, Domestica.

Three days and no few bar brawls later, the Indignation's crew was back on board and bound for Domestica. Steve was jumpier than usual, and drinking heavily to calm his nerves. A technical breach of intergalactic law (okay, make that a flagrant violation), but Bucky was known more for his willingness to look the other way than for his strict adherence to the rules. As long as safety and the crew's health were not compromised, Bucky would let things slide. And Steve was too professional to cross that line; he took alcohol-neutralizers well before he went on duty.

But Steve was off-duty when they made landfall, and half-pickled. He positively reeked of whiskey, and he clutched at the half-empty bottle when Bucky tried to take it from him. With a sigh, Bucky administered a dose of alcohol-neutralizer.

Abruptly sober, Steve regarded him like the sulky cat he was.

“We've arrived,” Bucky said. “So get cleaned up and put on your dress uniform. It's time for your family to meet your fiancé.”

An hour later, Steve was clear-eyed and pacing nervously. They'd only just been given clearance to debark, and Steve's uncles were waiting. Bucky felt as nervous as Steve looked, so better to get this over with.

They descended the ramp, and Bucky saw two cat-metas waiting.

They were a study in contrasts. Charles, Steve's blood-uncle, was slender and compact, with ivory skin and dark hair and fur, and was seated in a wheelchair. His ears looked velvet-soft and curved forward a bit at the tips, and he had the most vivid blue eyes Bucky had ever seen, gleaming sapphire in the starport's bright lights, soft humor in their depths. He looked a bit rumpled, like the absent-minded professor he was, hair tousled, jacket sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

Erik, Charles' mate, was a ginger tom with regal bearing. He was more powerfully built than Charles, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His eyes were a shifting mix of blue and grey and green, cool and assessing, the eyes of a hunter.

Steve bowed formally. “Uncle Charles, Uncle Erik, may I present Captain Bucky O'Hare of The Righteous Indignation, my future mate.”

Erik bowed in return, as did Bucky.

Charles grinned. “Now that the formalities have been dispensed with, get over here and give your uncles a hug.”

Erik didn't look like he wanted to be hugged, but he embraced Steve tightly. “Good to see you,” he said gruffly.

Charles hugged Steve equally tightly. “Don't stay away so long next time.”

Steve seized on the words. “So they'll let me return to space?”

“Most likely. Isn't that why you're marrying your captain?” He turned his attention to Bucky. “Welcome to the family, Captain O'Hare.”

Bucky flushed.

**~***~**

They were to stay at Charles' and Erik's estate. Bucky goggled at the opulence when he saw it, though Steve seemed oblivious. But he'd grown up in these circles.

Fortunately, Steve's uncles were both far more casual than their living space. Steve's welcome-home dinner was a cozy affair, just the four of them around a table in Erik and Charles' private kitchen. Erik cooked, and he even took the trouble to prepare several vegetable-based dishes more suitable to a lapin-meta in addition to the meat-rich dishes that feline-metas preferred. Everything was delicious, outrageously so. 

Charles quizzed them both extensively about what was going on out in the Meta Galaxies, the political and social climates that didn't always make the news. He was knowledgeable and argued passionately for the continued integration of the Old Terran Empire into the Galactic Congresses.

Erik, on the other hand, was an equally passionate separatist. The argument was clearly old territory, and it in no way dimmed the affection between the mated pair.

Finally, Charles took Erik's hand, gazing at him with fond exasperation. “Forgive my mate,” he said to Bucky. “He lost his family in one of the Imperial purges.”

“And I nearly lost my future mate to the last Imperial War.” Erik squeezed Charles' hand.

“But you didn't.” Charles smiled at him, then at Bucky. “Please forgive Erik. He still carries a grudge over my injuries.”

Erik didn't deny it.

Bucky gaped at Charles. “So you fought for the Metas?”

“We did. Erik was a destroyer captain, and I was his XO. We took heavy fire at the Battle of Ragnarok. The ship was crippled, and we suffered heavy casualties. The Imperials seemed to have the battle in hand, but Erik found a way to tip the balance and take out the Imperial battle-carrier.”

“And someone didn't tell me he was pinned under a collapsed bulkhead until the battle was over,” Erik said, tone deceptively mild. “He's mind-controlling Imperials so we can sneak in close, and he's damned near dying.”

“Stop being melodramatic. I wasn't anywhere near dying.”

“You spent almost a month in a coma afterward, your spine was shattered, and by the time we dug you out, it was too late for the neuro-regeneratives to work.”

“There was no guarantee they would have worked in any case. The damage was extensive.” Clearly this was another old argument.

Erik grumbled under his breath.

Charles squeezed his hand. “I've made my peace with it. You should should, too.”

Erik kissed his hand. “I know. I'm trying.”

“Try harder. It's been twenty years.”

Bucky watched in amazement, realizing that these two, bickering so domestically, were the heroes of Ragnarok, that he'd grown up on tales of their exploits. He said nothing of that, though, until he and Steve had retired to their suite.

“Your uncles were on the Westchester,” he said excitedly.

Steve was far more blasé about it. “Yeah. So?”

“So it's the story of the Westchester that made me want to go to space. I was thirteen when it happened.”

“I know the battle was a big deal, but the family was a lot more concerned afterward with Uncle Charles' survival. It was no sure thing, despite what he says. Uncle Erik scarcely left his side the whole time. They weren't mated yet, and it was a bit of a scandal, the queen's favorite cousin and the spacer captain.”

“He seems to manage well,” Bucky observed.

“What choice has he had?” Steve asked quietly. “It took time, though. The first few years, he shut himself away, barely even spoke to the family. Drank a lot, too. I think he wanted to chase Uncle Erik away, but he wouldn't go.”

“I can't imagine anyone making him do anything he doesn't want to do.”

“Exactly.” Steve rubbed a weary hand over his face, “C'mon. Let's go to bed.”

Bucky hadn't thought too much as to the sleeping arrangements. Maybe he should have. Clearly, as an affianced couple, they'd be expected to share a bed. This could be awkward. Still, given the size of this house, surely the bed would match.

Only it didn't. It was scarcely bigger than the bunks on the Indignation.

Steve shrugged at Bucky's protest. “We're cats. We like to sleep in small spaces.”

Great.

**~***~**

Bucky scarcely slept that night, afraid to even move, Steve's hard body pressed against him. Steve was warm, his skin soft, the trail of fur down his spine even softer. And his tail. His tail!

Bucky had always been fascinated by Steve's tail. So long, so fluffy, so expressive, not at all like his own cotton-ball stub, though Steve had told him there were some Felinians who had tails no longer than Bucky's. Bucky couldn't imagine that; how could they express themselves in the half-silent Felinian language? Steve said they managed, though.

Turned out Steve's tail had a life of its own while he slept. It flicked and twitched and wrapped itself around nearby objects, like Bucky's waist. Sheer torture. Bucky didn't think he'd ever been so hard.

Morning came at last, the soft dawnlight setting Steve's golden hair and fur aflame. Steve stirred sleepily, a contented cat in a sunbeam. “Morning,” he mumbled.

“Morning,” Bucky answered as he crawled out of bed for a cold shower.

Erik, still in pajamas, met them downstairs for breakfast. Charles would be down shortly, he said.

He prepared omelettes with spinach and mushrooms and onions, plust toast, juice, and coffee. The man's cooking rocked.

Bucky and Steve were both about halfway through their omelettes when Charles rolled in, clad only in a robe, hair wet, stray droplets of water clinging to the tips of his dark ears. His shoulders were broader than Bucky had realized, his neck long and elegant. Bucky tried not to stare at Charles' frail, scarred legs or at the dark tail draped limply across his lap.

Charles noticed anyway. “It's all right,” he said. “I know they're hardly pretty. But if my legs were the price for my life, it is a price I cannot regret.”

“Nor I,” Erik said, “though I'm still not forgiving the Imperials.” He kissed the top of Charles' head, just a quick peck, wrinkling his nose at the wet hair. “Now eat.” He set Charles' omelette on the table. “We have much to tend to today.”

“Yes, dear.” Charles offered his mate a fond smile then rolled the rest of the way up to the table. He looked over at Bucky and explained. “Now that the family is aware Steve has chosen a prospective mate, there is much that must be attended to, many legal and social protocols.” He wrinkled his nose. “Pain in the arse, if you ask me, but no one did. Anyway, you need to meet the family, as it were.”

“Steve warned me.” Sort of.

“Good. Most of them are easy enough to get on with, even the queen.”

He had to meet the queen? Fuck.

“Today the family will make preparations, so the two of you may have much of the day to yourselves, though my sister has made it clear she expects me to deliver the two of you to her home this afternoon.”

Steve's Aunt Raven? Ulp. He'd heard waaay too much of her from Steve.

Charles chuckled. “I see from your face you've heard of her.”

“Steve's told me stories.”

“Some of which may have actually been true,” Erik said dryly.

Charles sighed. “She's really not a bad person, just unconventional.”

“Like having three mates,” Steve muttered.

That one still amazed Bucky, and he said so. “I never thought the royal family would be that progressive.”

“They're not,” Charles said, just as Erik snorted.

“We're cats,” he said. “Raven's polyamory is tame compared to what some of our ancestors did.”

Charles shook his head. “Be that as it may, more recent generations have been far more conservative. Many in the family still disapprove of unconventional relationships, though Raven and I have forced them to be a bit more accepting.”

“Many of them still oppose same-sex marriages,” Erik said, tone dry, edging toward bitter. “Too worried about producing heirs, even in these times.”

“So how do you stand up to that kind of pressure?” Bucky hoped he wouldn't need to know.

“Oh, we've both produced heirs,” Charles said. “Erik has five; I have one.” He grimaced. “Rather a lot of medical intervention was required in my case.”

“Then will we have to produce heirs?” Bucky wanted children, just not on anyone else's timetable.

“Most likely, at least eventually. No one will pressure you for quite some time, I'd imagine. It's not like Steve's anywhere near the throne.”

“Fortunately,” Steve said. “That's a headache I would never want.”

“Eat,” Erik repeated as he set his own plate on the table. He glared at Charles.

“Yes, dear,” Charles said tolerantly, picking up his fork.

**~***~**

That afternoon, they went to meet Raven and company. The household was every bit as raucous and rowdy as Charles had indicated. Raven lived with three mates, Irene, Hank, and Azazel, and thus far the quartet had two children, Kurt and Anna Marie.

And Raven was blue, and not the steel grey that was often called blue in cats. Her skin was a vibrant cobalt; her hair and fur, an equally vibrant auburn. Hank was blue, too, though not quite as bright a shade, with hair to match. Azazel had crimson skin and black hair. Only Irene had more conventional coloring, fair with honey brown hair; she was also blind, her eyes a cloudy white.

Raven launched herself at Steve the moment she saw him, wrapped her arms around his neck. "Steve! How's my favorite nephew?"

He caught her, swung her around. "Getting married, apparently."

She looked at Bucky, who stood at Steve's side. "So I've heard."

Bucky met her golden-eyed gaze. "I'm Bucky O'Hare, ma'am."

"Don't 'ma'am' me," she said without heat.

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

She laughed and swatted his chest. "You'll fit in well here at Chaos Central."

Steve squirmed. "Aunt Raven, you know we'll be going back to space."

"But not forever. You'll come back eventually. Settle down. Raise some cubs. Pretend you're respectable."

Now Steve chuckled. "Aunt Raven, you don't even pretend."

Irene tapped Bucky on his forearm. "Let's give them some time to catch up."

He followed her to a small sitting room. She took a seat on the couch, patted the cushion beside her. "Sit." It was more command than request.

Bucky sat.

"You're having second thoughts."

Bucky sighed. "It's that obvious?"

"Yes, especially to me." She smiled, gentle yet inscrutable. "You know there are metas with, shall we say, unique abilities?"

Bucky nodded. "There are a few on my crew."

"Well, my talent allows ma to see possible futures."

"Scary."

"Indeed. But this is why I wanted to speak with you."

"So you know it's a marriage of convenience."

She laughed, a soft, warm sound. "Everyone knows that."

"Then why?"

"I also know you wish it to be real."

Bucky jerked back as if stung.

Her honey-brown ears twitched, and she offered him an enigmatic, utterly feline smile. "Yes," she said. "I know your secret. So does Charles -- hard to hide things from a telepath, though he won't say anything."

"So why are you telling me? What do you want? It's not like this changes anything."

"I myself want nothing more than for my nephew to be happy."

"And you don't think he can be happy in an arranged marriage? Especially when I love him but he doesn't love me? That's nuts!"

Now Irene frowned."You really are an idiot."

"What?"

"You are such an idiot." But she smiled to take the sting from her words. "Did you ever consider Steve might return your affections?"

"H-he does?" Bucky was floored.

"He's fighting it, because he thinks you don't. Which makes him just as much of an idiot."

"So what should I do?" He couldn't just suddenly declare his undying love. Could he?

Irene shook her head. "You'll have to figure that part out yourself. I've said as much as I should."

"Are all seers as infuriatingly oblique as you?" Bucky chuckled as he spoke.

"All of the good ones," Irene said, rising. "Now come. It's time to rejoin the others.

**~***~**

After the chaos of the afternoon, Bucky was relieved to return to the quiet of Charles' and Erik's estate for a leisurely dinner, followed by drinks and more conversation. Charles had a truly impressive collection of fine liquors from across the galaxies, including Bucky's favorite Lapin specialty, Kashtii, a carrot vodka. 

Erik mixed Kashtii martinis for himself and Bucky and served Steve and Charles Felinian whisky, neat. 

Steve and Bucky sat at opposite ends of one couch. Bucky longed to scoot closer to his fiancé, but he held back despite Charles' pointed looks. 

Erik snugged into the corner of the other couch, every inch the cat meta. Charles moved from his wheelchair to cuddle up beside him. They looked every bit the old married couple. 

"Are you ready for your audience with the queen?" Charles asked, azure eyes alight. 

"Fuck no," Bucky said. 

Charles grinned. "Your honesty is refreshing." 

Steve looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. 

"You have nothing to worry about," Charles continued. "My niece is a lovely young woman" "Be glad her mother isn't still on the throne," Erik muttered. "Queen Emma was a bitch. Still is a bitch, for that matter." 

Steve shook his head. "He's exaggerating." 

Charles chuckled. "Not that much. The White Queen is a hard woman. The Red Queen, on the other hand, is much nicer. And she doesn't have much use for formality, much to her mother's dismay." 

Bucky had another sixteen hours to worry until he met Queen Jean, though. And another night to endure in that wretchedly cozy bed. 

Charles and Erik retired early, pleading weariness. Bullshit. Bucky could read the heated looks those two gave each other. Even after more than two decades together, they still had the hots for each other, and that was kind of cool. 

If only he and Steve could be like that. Could Irene be right? 

He and Steve lingered over their drinks a bit longer, then went up to their suite. Bucky stripped to his underwear and climbed into the bed, lying along the wall, trying to leave as much room for Steve as he could. 

Steve regarded him with a sideling feline gaze. "Are you really all right with this, Buck?" 

"This?" 

"Marrying me." 

"Yeah." 

"Because you don't have to if you don't want to. We can figure something else out." Steve's words came in a nervous rush. "And even if we do go through with it, we don't have to sleep with each other once we get back to the Indignation." 

"And if I want to sleep with you?" Fuck, was he really asking? 

Steve's blue eyes went wide. "Do you really?" 

"Yeah." 

"Sleep with me, sleep with me? Or sex, sleep with me?" 

"Both, if you'll have me." 

"If I'll have you? Buck, I've been half in love with you for years." 

Bucky laughed. "We really are a pair of idiots, aren't we?" 

"You said it, not me." 

"Just get down here and kiss me." 

Steve pounced on Bucky and kissed him senseless. 

Once Steve allowed him up for air, Bucky asked, "So is it against protocol for us to--" 

"Fuck like bunnies?" Steve's blue eyes twinkled. 

"Or like cats in heat." 

"It probably is, but who cares. Did you ever know me to obey a rule I didn't like?" 

"Never." Bucky pulled Steve's head forward for another kiss. 

**~***~**

They actually both proved too tired for anything more athletic than a pair of languid hand jobs. Steve cleaned them up afterward, then snuggled up beside -- nearly on top of -- Bucky, and they drifted off to sleep together. It was the most restful sleep of Bucky's life.

Meeting the queen the next day was almost an anticlimax. Queen Jean was every bit as sweet as Charles had said, and while she possessed the regal bearing common in cats and cat metas, she was young and retained a bit of kittenish enthusiasm. As soon as the formal introductions had been dispensed with, she threw her arms around Steve and hugged the stuffing out of him.

Her hair and tail were a fiery ginger, and she wore her hair long and loose like a girl's. Her eyes were a merry blue, gleaming as she loosed Steve and turned her attention to Bucky. "I'm glad Steve found you," she said.

"We were right under each other's noses the whole time, Your Majesty."

She mock-frowned. "Don't you dare call me anything but Jean in private."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

She swatted his chest, light and affectionate. "You'll fit in well. I'm glad Aunt Irene was right, that calling you home should be all you two would need to figure it out."

Steve groaned. "I should have known she'd engineered this."

Jean chuckled. "You really thought I would have sent a royal summons for any other reason?"

"I just figured your mother had a hand in it."

Now Jean full-on laughed, a clear and silvery sound. "She would have been far less direct and far more manipulative."

"Sounds like Erik was right about her," Bucky muttered under his breath.

"Mother's really not as bad as Uncle Erik makes out," Jean said. "He's just never forgiven her for trying to block his marriage to Charles."

Bucky goggled at her. "She what? All you need to do is see them together to know they're meant for each other."

Steve nodded. "You should have seen the way Erik camped out at Uncle Charles' bedside after Ragnarok."

An image of exactly that popped into Bucky's head. Charles in a hospital bed, looking alarmingly wan and frail, so unlike the vibrant,vital meta Bucky was coming to know. Erik, in a chair at Charles' bedside, tawny skin sallow, pale eyes glittering with unshed tears, auburn hair rucked up into a wild tangle, ears folded down in sorrow, hands encircling one of Charles' hands.

A memory, Bucky realized, shown to him by Jean. "I didn't realize you were a telepath," he said.

She blushed a little. "Just like my mother and Uncle Charles. Sorry for intruding -- I just wanted you to see that the way Steve did."

"It's okay." The touch of her mind had been like a warm breath. "I just hope I haven't been projecting anything inappropriate." It was difficult to concentrate with Steve standing so close.

Jean laughed. "Fortunately, my shields are really good."

**~***~**

To Bucky's surprise, Queen Jean was able to arrange for the wedding to take place little more than a Standard week later. Her mother, whom Bucky was forced to meet -- he was less than impressed -- protested the haste, but Jean was insistent. The Indignation's crew needed to return to space and earn a living. She later admitted to Bucky and Steve she knew the crew was more than rich enough to retire.

"You do it because you love it," Charles said quietly as Bucky related the tale after dinner. There was a hint of wistfulness in his tone, a touch of sadness in his azure eyes.

"You still miss it," Bucky said quietly.

"I do," Charles admitted. He sipped at his drink, then continued. "I would have come home eventually, but I wasn't ready. Maybe I would never have been ready." His fingers combed through the glossy fur of his tail, as if trying to compensate for its stillness, his favorite nervous habit.

Bucky watched him, a crazy idea taking shape. "If you could go back out, would you?"

Charles nodded slowly. "Erik and I have talked about it -- we both still miss it. But finding the right circumstances wouldn't be easy." He grimaced, lifted his tail with his hands. "Even in these times, many captains don't want to deal with a paralyzed crew member."

"Never mind that most of the work onboard requires brainpower, not brawn." Bucky wrinkled his nose, disgusted.

"Indeed."

"So join our crew."

Charles' tail slipped from his fingers and onto his lap. "Pardon?"

"Join us." 

"You're serious."

"I am. Join us, even if it's just for a few runs. We can always use the extra hands."

Charles leaned back in his chair. "I'll need to talk to Erik." Then he laughed. "Who am I kidding? Erik will say yes in a heartbeat."

"Say yes to what?" Erik eyed Charles suspiciously as he entered, a cake in his hands. Steve trailed behind him, carrying dessert plates and forks.

"Going back to space, love."

Erik set the cake down, one of his too-toothy grins spreading across his face. "Hell, yeah."

Steve shot Bucky a curious look.

Bucky grinned at him. "It appears we have two new crew members.

Steve just stared at his uncles and shook his head.

**~***~**

The bachelor party was, quite literally, a riot. Tony and Thor planned it, and it was held at a bar in the capital city. The crew members were currently trying to see who could get the drunkest the fastest. Bucky's money was on Thor. Or maybe Natasha. He and Steve were sitting it out, nursing their own drinks, contentedly wrapped around each other.

"Glad you two finally figured it out," Tony slurred as he saluted them with a bottle of Felinian rum.

Loki, the only other reasonably sober crew member, smiled enigmatically over the rim of his Asgardian-vodka martini. "You know I won the pool, right?"

"Pool?" Bucky wasn't really surprised -- his crew would bet on anything.

Loki looked smug. "On when the two of you would stop pining for each other and get together."

"Too long?" Bucky deadpanned.

Steve's tail twined around Bucky's wrist, squeezing affectionately. "Just ling enough."

That was when Thor, more than a little lit on Asgardian vodka, shoved at Bruce, playfully but far too hard, and the green guy busted loose.

As did all hell.

Only Steves family connections kept them from an extended stay in jail. As it was, they were detained for several hours, until Charles and Erik got matters sorted out.

The crew members were sent back to the Indignation, under orders to stay there until the wedding. Charles and Erik escorted Steve and Bucky back to their estate, just managing to keep straight faces until they were safely away from police headquarters.

"This is a royal wedding that won't soon be forgotten," Erik said with one of his toothiest grins.

Steve flushed adorably pink.

Bucky didn't sleep that night, his arms full of tipsy, frisky cat meta. They didn't actually do that much -- Bucky was too nervous to properly concentrate -- but it was a nice sneak preview for their wedding night.

The queen -- Jean -- had arranged for a week's honeymoon at the Winter Palace, a remote but luxurious castle in the far northern reaches of Domestica, relic of the days of warring clans and their strongholds. She'd tried to make it two, but Bucky had politely but firmly refused. His crew was getting far too restless, as the bachelor party had borne out.

Bucky found the wedding itself both a blur and interminable. The speeches were endless, with no fewer than seventeen members of the royal family droning on in succession, all of them long-winded and full of themselves. Bucky kept looking for an exit, but he also kept getting distracted from that quest by the sight of his mate-to-be, resplendent in the dress uniform of one of his titles, dark navy trimmed in red and white and embellished with small silver stars.

Bucky himself stood in a new version of his dress uniform, bright scarlet with gold braid. They'd even given him a bunch of fake medals; the crew would tease him mercilessly about that. He almost laughed but caught himself in time. Steve, though, had caught the aborted laugh and shot him a quelling look along with the tiniest of smiles.

Just as Bucky's feet were growing numb from standing, Jean stepped forward. All kittenishness was gone from her countenance, her bearing the type of regal that only cats could command. She began to speak, and Bucky strove to burn the moment into his memory. It was no use, though. It would be as much of a blur as the whole rest of the ceremony, just more pleasant.

Queen Jean spoke only briefly, then she led them through the traditional vows, translated into Galactic Standard for Bucky's benefit. The usual sort of love-and-respect stuff, and he was able to find his voice well enough for the expected responses.

And they were wed.

**~***~**

The reception was almost as much if a blur as the wedding, though for a different reason.The drinks were both excellent and sneakily strong, and Bucky , out of utter relief, drank a bit more than he should have. 

Fortunately, by the time he and Steve reached the Winter Palace, he'd mostly sobered up. As they were led to their suite, which proved to be larger than the entire crew's quarters on the Indignation, Steve slipped his hand into Bucky's and squeezed gently. 

Once they were finally alone in the master bedroom, Steve pounced, filling Bucky's arms with warm, wiggly cat meta. "I want you so bad it hurts," he proclaimed just before his lips crashed down on Bucky's. He nipped at Bucky's lower lip, the slight sting fuelling Bucky's own desire. 

Bucky's hands went to the fastenings of Steve's jacket. "Off," he said. "Now." 

They stripped each other, clumsy in their haste, clothing falling where it may, until they were both gloriously naked. Steve's body was breathtaking, all sculpted muscle, tawny skin, and tawnier fur. His tail swished in anticipation, and his cock stood ready, flushed red and beginning to leak. 

Steve yanked Bucky into his arms, the fingers of one hand combing through the dark fur along his spine then palming his tail. His tail waggled happily in response. 

Steve's hand slid just a little lower; one finger traced the sensitive skin around Bucky's hole. 

Bucky shuddered. 

"May I?" 

"I may hurt you if you don't." 

Steve chuckled. "Then let's find some lube." He headed for the _en suite_ bath, while Bucky explored the nightstands. "Found some," he called to Steve almost immediately. An almost staggering assortment. Someone had thought ahead. 

Steve walked back in, a jumbo bottle in one hand. "So did I." He pulled Bucky back into his arms, his empty hand returning to the area so recently abandoned, fingertip probing lightly at Bucky's hole. "Lie down for me," Steve urged. 

Bucky stretched out on his side on the bed, and Steve settled facing him. Their cocks brushed, and Bucky bit back a hiss. 

Steve opened Bucky up with patient care, nipping and nibbling at his shoulders and throat as he worked. Marking him with teeth and nails and scent. 

That magnificent golden tail slipped between their bodies, teasing Bucky's cock until he was writhing against Steve, trying to push himself further onto his mate's thrusting fingers. 

Those fingers found his prostate, sending an electric jolt of pleasure along his nerves. He cried out, almost blacked out. "Now," he begged once he could find coherent speech again. 

"Patience." Steve growled low in his throat, jabbed Bucky's prostate in a sharp tattoo.

Bucky was whining and whimpering, soft sounds of raw need, when Steve finally judged he was ready. He rolled Bucky onto his back and hooked Bucky's legs over his shoulders, then he greased his cock and aligned it with Bucky's loosened hole. 

He pushed in carefully, too carefully for Bucky's tastes. Bucky used his heels to yank Steve forward, sheathing his cock to the hilt. 

Bucky gasped, tensed for just a moment as his body adjusted to the intrusion. 

Steve froze. 

Now it was Bucky's turn to growl. "Move, damn it." 

Steve's gray-blue eyes stared deep into his own for a long moment, then he pulled most of the way out, slid in again, building a rhythm that intensified rapidly. 

It was mind-blowing, the best sex of his life, made so because it was with Steve. His mate. His love. 

He came with a triumphant howl, his body convulsing around Steve, pulling Steve over the edge with him. 

As they lay together afterward, tired and sticky but content, Steve murmured, "Love ya, Buck." 

"Love you, too." And he did. Always had; always would. 


End file.
